InkBlood
by CupidityRising
Summary: When Darius sets in motion a chain of events that could affect the fate of Inkheart and its characters, Capricorn's right hand man and a young woman with unusual circumstances are thrown right into the middle of the turmoil. This story centers around Basta and what could be a love interest, or an enemy.
1. Chapter 1: Darius' Plan

**InkBlood**

**Chapter 1: Darius' Plan**

**Hooray! I'm glad I got around to doing this, because it's really been on my mind for a while! **

**This is a story centering mainly on Basta and the happenings at Capricorn's village. It takes place about two years before Inkheart, and the events of this story may change how it ends.**

**I'm going to go ahead and stick an M on this sucker ahead of time because Capricorn's Village isn't a very nice place. Unless you're me, writing from an arguably safe distance. Anyway, it was Charivari's Basta fic "The Paper Maid" that motivated me to write this, so go check it out when it gets re-posted!**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Cornelia Funke!**

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In between the rolling hills of the Province of La Spezia and the rocky coast of the Ligurian Sea, there were tales of a little known and dangerous place, a village that no man –and especially woman- dared go. Rumors had it that the devil himself lived in the village, others claimed that the men who resided there were damned. Those that were foolish or curious enough to go looking for it never returned, their burnt-out cars found in ditches the only remnants to be found.

The farmers and vineyard proprietors that were unlucky enough to be situated on the fringes of the cursed village knew little of what went on in the village, but had even less to say on the matter, considering their entire businesses were dominated by the forces from within. Many a poor farmer was made poorer due to the demand of a "tribute" to the village, which was usually food, money, and wine. In some cases, the tribute took the shape of an attractive woman from the household.

Every family targeted paid the cruel price of the village, because the ones who did not were made an example of; their livelihoods burned to the ground.

Such was the way of Capricorn's village.

It was on just such a night that the man himself, clad in a silk suit as red as the blood he had his men spill, sat in his ornately carved oak armchair. His gaze was currently fixed unhappily on a small, balding man, who happened to be kneeling –or rather cringing- on the thick carpet before him. Posted behind him was a sharp-faced man and a woman of considerable age.

"She needs to be made an example of!" The old woman crowed at Capricorn, who seemed utterly uninterested in paying her any notice. "Actions like that demonstrate what a conniving little wench she really is!" she continued in a louder, even more shrill voice.

The man next to her chuckled lightly at the way she was ignored and pulled out a knife from his black jacket, cleaning his nails with it idly as if to reinforce the fact that no one was listening. The woman scowled at him over her beak-like nose and turned back to the man sitting at the head of the room. "Besides, she can't serve you like she is now! The snake's bite has left her barely able to move! She's useless while she's recovering!"

At this Capricorn shifted in his chair, uncrossing his legs to reposition himself. "Well, you are correct about that. Not much use in a maid who's bedridden."

"Exactly, she may not even recover!" Mortola said, beaming.

"I suppose I'll be in need of a new favorite maid, if she doesn't."

The old woman's smile fell at the last part, but she was already forgotten as Capricorn turned two colorless eyes toward the man shaking on the floor. The man seemed to feel the stare even as he was bent on the floor, because his shaking intensified.

"But that's why I have you, Darius."

Darius cringed on the floor and even as he spoke refused to look Capricorn in the eye. "Y-you want m-m-me to read m-more women from the c-c-c-castle?" he said despairingly.

"Hmmm," Capricorn's noncommittal answer sounded negative. "Actually, I was thinking we would try something new."

"New?" Darius wailed.

"Yes, Darius, _new_." He rose out of his chair and paced around the study, walking by the large rows of book shelves. They were old, dusty things, neither read by him or Darius, -not that Capricorn could read- they were purely ornamental.

"You see, just the other day I was reminded of the times I spent going on hunts in the forest in my younger days. I recall that when the men and I would stop at streams, there would always be nymphs."

"Nymphs?" Darius asked in spite of himself.

"Yes, nymphs." Capricorn sighed in annoyance, "Slender blue women that reside by the water? Not very bright, but smart enough to flee when Basta approached them. Isn't that right, Basta?"

He turned with his pale face twisted from mirth to the man standing beside Mortola.

Basta, who had until then been silent froze, face flushed. "Th-they didn't like anyone." He managed to choke out in between Mortola's crowing laughter.

"Oh, but they especially hated you. I can remember the constant times they drenched you every time you tried to 'sway their opinion of you' by pulling that knife of yours out."

Capricorn chuckled to himself while Basta stood with his gaze anywhere else as he was scorned.

"Ah, well, it isn't as if anything's changed since then. In any case, Darius, I'd rather like to have a few nymphs around." His voice was light, but Darius knew it was not a request.

"U-Um, won't t-the n-nymphs need w-w-w-"

"Darius, I don't want to hear your voice until tomorrow, when you read out a few new maids." Darius quickly clamped his accursed stuttering mouth. Thankfully Basta happened to voice the same concern.

"Sir, wouldn't water nymphs need, well, water…?" he said hesitantly, probably still stinging from his master's earlier comments.

"Basta," Capricorn replied with a cruel smile. "I don't think it'll make a difference for you either way."

With a wave of his hand and a peal of cold laughter he dismissed them. Darius found himself roughly hauled up by a fuming Basta and pushed from the room.

He could still hear the laughter ringing in his ears as Basta slammed the door to his bookroom shut and locked it.

~O~O~O~

The derelict church was overcome with shouts and cheers from the men as 6 nymphs of varying shades of blue sprung forth out of midair. He hadn't meant to summon so many, but when it came to reading passages that were vague on the number of something, Darius found end results would vary. It was one of his more successful readings, with his stuttering only minorly deforming a few. Some had mismatched colored eyes, one had a limp, one's slender pointed ears were bent and twisted, and the other, well, Capricorn had it quietly dragged out of the church. No one but Darius seemed to hear a gunshot as the men rushed forward and began pawing at the frightened blue creatures. Already there were fights breaking out over who would get the first "turn" with who.

Still, no one actually made a move until Capricorn had examined all the nymphs and selected his favorite, gripping her small arm and walking away. When he left the church, the revelry began and Darius had to turn away from the harassment of the poor girls. He felt himself being pulled by the shoulder and looked up to find Basta with a sour look on his sharp face. Apparently he had no inclination to stay and watch either.

Even after the doors to his book lined prison slammed shut, Darius could still see the nymphs being pulled this way and that, groped and fondled by the beasts Capricorn employed.

And he was the cause of it all. He hung his head in his hands and dug his nails into his temples. It was his own cursed cowardice that allowed Capricorn to ruin the lives of so many! He did everything the twisted man asked, so that his own life could be spared. Was his life worth more than the maids he read out? Or the nymphs?

He stifled a sob and looked around at the shelves of well-worn books. He'd read them all. Some of them aloud as per Capricorn's wish. They were his livelihood, his friends, but also his undoing. He was a prisoner in the accursed village because of them. Yet he was kept alive because of them. He had never had such a love-hate relationship with the paper bound things.

They were a problem. But then, could they not also be a solution?

Darius stood up and ran his index finger along the spines of dozens of books. Who knew which one would be made to donate more poor innocent maidens? Capricorn would tire of the nymphs, just as he tired of everything eventually. His was a gluttonous and never ending appetite for others. Capricorn was a parasite that feasted on people. Their money, their loyalty, their bodies, their possessions, their minds, their lives, their blood…

Darius paused with a furrowed brow in his line of thought. Capricorn drained the life out of everything he touched…

Suddenly he turned around and dragged his chair over to a high shelf. Standing on it, he reached up for a dark crimson volume. It was the color of blood. The color of Capricorn.

Stepping off the chair he passed his fingers over glossy black words on the cover.

"Bram Stoker's Dracula."

Capricorn's tale was not unlike Dracula's. A sadistic lord that terrorized the countryside and enslaved the villagers that inhabited it. Aside from the supernatural elements, the two stories were so similar it was eerie.

Darius recalled another three fearsome creatures that lurked in the book: the Brides of Dracula. In the book they had been cunning, insatiable monsters, even difficult to control by Dracula himself. But more importantly, they possessed legendary beauty, and were able to sway any man under their spell to make a meal of him. Back in high school when he had read the book he had found the idea rather laughable. Even now it made him grin. But a powerful temptress might just be what his situation called for. After all, weren't most powerful men and nation's downfalls attributed to women? Helen of Troy, Cleopatra, Delilah… And those were the ones without powers.

Darius opened the book and began to silently read. He would be prepared the next time Capricorn came calling. He would present his destruction on a silver platter.

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**You know, I always wondered why Darius didn't use the books he was locked in with to his advantage. Like, why not summon a dragon to burn down Capricorn's house? Or call a powerful hero –like Gandalf- to save him? Oh well, someone probably knows. I read the book in third grade. Weirdly enough Basta was my 1****st**** book crush :P Yeah, I don't know what possesses a little girl to like someone like Basta . There was just something about him that set him apart from the other villains in the book. Although I can't quite put my finger on what that is, even now. Oh well. **

**Another thing I never understood in the book was why Capricorn didn't have Darius read more out of them. I know he had Mo summon a bunch of treasure, but before that, why not enchanted armor, or a potion of eternal youth or something? Maybe we can just attribute that to his ignorance of stories and his ego for not thinking them worth his time. Although in this story, he's a bit more ambitious. Maybe he's going for world domination?**

**Oh, and just so you know, this IS a story that centers around Basta and what will likely be an enemy/love interest. The first chapter was just mostly from Darius' point of view because he's the one that sets the whole series of insane events in motion. Instigator. Anyway, I don't know if anyone will stumble onto this, but if you do and like it, please leave a review for me! I have a good idea of what this story will entail, but I'd be eager to know what people would like to see in it. :)**

**An alternate title for this chapter was 'Darius Grows Some Balls'.**


	2. Chapter 2: Three Pretty Faces

**InkBlood**

**Chapter 2: Three Pretty Faces**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Cornelia Funke, and soon Bram Stoker!**

**Note: I put InkBlood up on my old DeviantART account, just in case anything happens to this one, also, I'll be posting a few illustrations there. Nothing special, mostly just character concepts, maid uniforms, the main character and her sisters, etc. I don't think I'll draw Basta because are pretty much the only thing I can draw, and 2. I already found a PERFECT picture of how I imagined Basta in the Book. Capricorn's also in the picture and he's spot on as well. It's called "Capricorn and Basta" by Purple-Twilek on DeviantART. I really recommend it, especially as a way to erase the horrible representations of them in the movie. I still refuse to watch Inkheart. The pictures of Basta and Capricorn were enough to put me off… Movie Basta was NOT lanky like the book described him, that actor was portly I say, PORTLY! And Capricorn looked like Mr. Bean. .**

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It wasn't as if he hadn't _told_ Capricorn this would happen.

Basta glared across the room at the blue nymph seated with Cockerell. Although blue really wasn't the word he would use to describe her lately. At the present, she was more of a faded grey. He'd noticed that over the past few days, all of the nymphs that had been divvied up amongst the men hadn't been fairing so well. -Not that this wasn't anticipated, but he suspected it had something to do with their separation from the rivers they frequented. He watched Cockerell lean in on the nymph, who looked unsteady and dazed to his actions. Ironically, Cockerell had vied for all of the nymphs but for the one with the limp. Basta frowned from disgust and jealousy as he stabbed his fork into the roast the maids were serving. The man didn't even seem to notice his woman was dying. Appetite effectively lost, he pushed the plate away and strode out of the church. The serving girls avoided his gaze and jumped out of his way as if he carried the plague, which only served to intensify his temper.

A boy that had the misfortune of crossing his path found himself at the brunt of his anger as he hefted him up by the collar and shook him like a dog, flashing his knife at him and preparing to leave a painful nick as a reminder until he heard a shrill voice behind him.

"Basta! Put that brat down and do something useful!"

The boy wriggled out of his grip when he turned to face Mortola.

Despite his anger he flicked the knife closed. He knew better than to threaten the old harpy with it.

"What are you crowing on about?" he hissed at the wizened face.

She jabbed him in the chest with an angular finger. "Don't you _dare_ give me any of your lip, you worthless dog! Else I'll see to it that Capricorn leaves you in the next house he has burned."

Basta felt his face go pale at the thought and he pressed his mouth into a thin line as he summoned his rage to chase away the unwanted fear. It was successful and he spat out a scathing comment. "You don't have that kind of power Mortola. If you did then you'd be more than head maid."

Mortola's sharp black eyes widened and she brought up her talon-like fingers as her wrinkled mouth twisted. For a moment he thought she might claw at him like a bird, but she managed to compose herself and hissed, "Get Darius."

She turned on heel and stalked away from him, her long shapeless black dress trailing behind her and reminding Basta uneasily of a nun.

Darius jumped nervously like he always did when Basta opened the door. The lead-tongue had always been more mouse than man, and it disgusted Basta whenever he saw the fool acting like a coward. Today was no exception.

"Get out here!" he barked as the man scrambled to pick up a red book.

"What's that?" he motioned at the book in Darius' trembling hands. "I don't remember Capricorn telling you to bring a book last time."

"O-oh, I j-just thought, th-that-"

Basta groaned and snatched it out of his hand. Darius was acting suspiciously. But the problem was, Darius always acted suspiciously. It was in his very nature to twitch and be nervous, even when he had no call for it.

It made reading him incredibly difficult, which in turn made Basta very nervous. Which in turn made him angry, and therefore ill company.

"Let's go, don't want to keep Capricorn waiting." He shoved Darius forward, who nearly fell flat on his face. As they walked the halls Basta examined the book. He could tell the cover didn't read "Inkheart", but that was about it. He flipped through the pages and was pleased to find that it at least had pictures. A looming castle, a grand but empty hall, several well-dressed men conversing… He stopped so suddenly on one of the pages he nearly gave himself a paper cut. Three voluptuous women dominated the page. They wore ornate dresses and expensive-looking jewelry so he figured they must be royalty. The woman standing in the middle was full-cheeked and the more voluptuous of the other two. Also unlike the other two her hair was not colored in, so he also guessed that perhaps she was blonde.

'Like Resa.' He thought idly before remembering all her rejections. He narrowed his eyes at the nameless woman. 'And this one would probably think herself too good as well.' Sure enough, the expression on her face was arrogant and scornful. Unbelievable that a picture was looking down on him! It made him ache all the more because she would probably be right in thinking so. He couldn't see a flaw on her. He looked at the other two standing in her shadow, perhaps hoping to see if either of them were more approachable. He had forgotten it was a picture, and continued to forget until a mocking voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Well, well, Basta. Out for a little light-reading, are we?"

Basta nearly dropped the book as he'd realized he and Darius had walked straight into Capricorn's study. Capricorn himself sat in his favorite armchair, regarding him with an expression of casual interest.

"And to think I thought I'd never see the day you had your nose in a book. Tell me, what were you looking at? Because I know you couldn't be reading."

The fact that he was mocking him for lacking a skill that he himself did not posses did not cross Basta's mind as he snapped the book shut and fought the pathetic urge to hide it behind his back. "Just a book." He said quickly.

"I know it's a book, you fool! I asked you what you found so interesting in it." the pleasant blankness on his face was replaced by immediate displeasure.

He swallowed at his master's tendency to switch moods at the blink of an eye. Amused one moment, having someone killed the next.

"Pictures." He said, having to clear his throat.

"Let's have a look at them, then." He held out a pale hand. The ruby cufflink on his crimson sleeve gleamed coldly in the light from the fire place.

Like a child surrendering contraband to a teacher, he approached Capricorn's large desk and handed him the book. In the agonizing seconds Capricorn took to flip through the pages, Basta fidgeted, fighting the urge to pull out and toy with his knife. Instead he glanced behind him, eyeing Darius with a scowl. This was all _his_ fault, bringing the book with him in the first place. He should have just beaten him senseless with the accursed thing and then burned it.

An intrigued noise from Capricorn called his attention back to his master. He inwardly groaned when he saw the hungry smile, as he knew he'd found the page depicting the beautiful women. "What's this?" he drawled, holding up the book up to show Basta. Sure enough. He averted his eyes to keep himself from being shamefully drawn in again.

"Well, I can't say I'm not surprised. I suppose it was only a matter of time before you found a woman that couldn't run away from you." He chuckled as he brought the book back to look at it again. Basta winced and nailed his eyes to the floor. "Well, at the very least you have good taste. These women are indeed quite delectable. Your only problem is your food never seems to, ah, _agree with you_." He laughed again at his own cleverness. Darius didn't join in, which was a very smart decision considering Basta was fantasizing about breaking a few of the man's fingers once they were alone again.

"Who are these women Darius?"

The question came suddenly and Basta looked up to see all the humor gone from Capricorn's face. His pale milk eyes were focused beyond him, and Basta gratefully stepped aside to allow his master full view of the book keeper. He made sure to keep a cautious distance from the crackling fireplace behind him.

"W-well," Darius began, and already Basta was tired of him. "T-they're the brides of an-an esteemed C-c-count from the book-k I'm reading."

"Tsk, tsk." Capricorn clicked his tongue disdainfully. "Eyeing women who are already taken? Well, that isn't actually unusual for you, but still I'm disappointed."

Basta wondered if he meant Roxanne or Resa. Or Arlene or Gwen. Or Natalia, but -no, she had left Renaldo a week ago so that didn't count. Still, he truly hoped he didn't know about Resa. Capricorn never cared to share.

"So? What else about them?" Capricorn indicated Darius. "If they're in a book they must be special in some way." He almost sounded suspicious.

Darius seemed hesitant to answer. "Th-they, a-ah-"

"Out with it." Capricorn sighed, rubbing his temples in annoyance. "Or I'll have Basta loosen your tongue a bit."

Eager to have his knife in his hands again and to make himself useful to Capricorn, Basta withdrew his old friend and grinned at Darius. He was already making plans on a few improvements to his face when somehow the mouse collected himself enough to choke out a sufficient explanation.

"Th-they're enchanted in that they won't g-g-grow old or die from m-mortal m-means." He said breathlessly. Basta barely heard what he said; he was so disappointed that he wouldn't be showing off his skills for his master.

_First with the book, now this?_ Basta silently fumed.Darius was out to ruin him, he just knew it.

"Eternal youth, hm? Well, I can see how that would be appealing. But I've never been interested in a woman long enough to see her grow old, so what do I care? Longevity is useless when you're quickly replaced." He leaned back and clasped his hand in front of him. "What do you think, Basta? You go through women nearly as quickly as I, though it's because of their rejection rather than you growing bored."

The comment stung, so he chose to focus on the beginning of what he'd said. "More women are always welcome. Even after the nymphs." He forced a light laugh, hoping Capricorn was finished pointing out his humiliations.

"Ah yes, the nymphs." Capricorn chuckled fondly. "They were a nice distraction, for as long as they lasted." He gave a dismissing wave of his hand.

For the first time it occurred to Basta that Capricorn's nymph was nowhere in sight.

"Perhaps _they_ could have used the longevity. Well then, Darius, I suppose you've got until tomorrow morning to practice."

"R-really?" he gasped. His reaction was quite different than the whimpering and pleading that usually accompanied being told he'd be expected to summon another creature for Capricorn's amusement.

"Did you hear that? I think lead-tongue is fond of the idea as well." Basta chuckled hollowly along with Capricorn as Darius looked down and trembled.

"Maybe he should be the one that has to put them out of their misery if he ruins them." Basta muttered, thinking back on the unfortunate misshapen nymph from days past Capricorn had ordered him to put down.

If Capricorn had heard, he didn't show it. He took another glance at the picture before closing the book and sliding it toward Darius. "Try to at least keep the blonde in one piece."

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**As you can probably tell, I have no sentence structuring skills. I'm just like, "Kay, so I guess the subject **_**sorta**_** changed… NEW PARAGRAPH!" Hope that doesn't bother anyone, if it does, lemme know what to fix ;) Anyways, just so you know, this isn't going to be like, a **_**vampire lovefest**_** or anything. I'm not a Twilight fan, and the story of Inkheart won't be over-ridden with sexual, bloodsucking filler. **

**The soon-to-be protagonist will be a vampire, but that's really not the point to the story, it's like, she's a girl that happens to be a vampire, not the other way around. The most prominent thing about her is her unique personality/circumstances/etc, not the fact that she drinks blood and is pretty damn hot. So expect an actual person behind the fangs, not a shameless vampire homage. Also, just so you know, Bram Stoker's vampires and Stephenie Meyer's vampires are waaaaay different. For one they don't sparkle, they roast.**


	3. Chapter 3: The One that Didn't Get Away

**InkBlood**

**Chapter 3: The One That Didn't Get Away**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Cornelia Funke, and now Bram Stoker! **

**^ Do I really have to put that for every chapter? I mean, it's not very likely that I purchased the rights to the book in between releasing chapters… Although that would be awesome. Can you say, Inkspell re-write? :)**

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For Basta, the weekend was proving to be a bitter one. Upon leaving Capricorn's mansion after being thoroughly humiliated, he'd thought his luck may have finally changed when he happened upon a nymph in the middle of the street. From the bent and twisted state of her ears, he recognized her as the one that had been sitting with Cockerell at dinner.

She was paler than earlier and lay curled up on the cobblestoned street. He bent over her and saw she was breathing, if rather shallowly. He wondered if she had collapsed with Cockerell and he'd just left her where she lay.

Basta passed a few fingers over her cheek. Her skin felt dry, like parchment. He attempted to pick her up, but was immediately thwarted when she suddenly scratched him across his face. He dropped her and she fell limply back onto the cooling cobblestone, her nearly white hair pooling around her like a still waterfall.

He cursed as he put a hand to his cheek and felt warmth running down his fingers. He couldn't believe it! Well that was just typical. He raised a boot to kick the downed nymph, but after a few seconds thought better of it. He stepped over her crumpled form and made his way home.

The night that Darius was to summon the three women, Basta happened upon the same nymph again. She was in the same place on the side of the street, nearly completely white. He rubbed his cheek sullenly, remembering the previous night, but approached her nonetheless. This time he couldn't see any breathing, but she struggled weakly when he hefted her up by the back of her thin dress.

With little effort he managed to drag her through a few winding alleys until they hit a shallow channel drifting lazily through a gully in the more deserted side of the village. He took one last look at the wilted nymph and tossed her into the flowing water. If a river was what she needed then the channel was the closest thing the village had to offer. If not, well, it lead to the coast where Capricorn had most bodies dumped.

He didn't bother standing around waiting to see if the nymph resurfaced.

Inside the red walls of the church, the men and boys stood crowded all around. The usual dining tables and benches had been pushed against the walls and the serving women stood around nervously. The men were never much interested in food when Capricorn was about to order women.

Most of the men in the crowd had enough sense to get out of Basta's way as he approached his post near Capricorn's throne. The one's that didn't got a backhand to the nose or a cuff on the ears. He ascended the few steps to where Capricorn was seated and took his position at his lower right. Underneath Mortolla. This irked him, as it always did, but his annoyance was forgotten when he noticed the left of Capricorn was empty. Still no sign of Resa. He wondered if she'd recuperate any time soon. Maybe he'd pay her a visit a in the recovery building. He'd bring flowers, and she'd be in no condition to get way -it really had potential.

The wicked smile on his face slipped off when he heard his Master speak. "Well men, it looks like our friend Darius has a surprise for us."

The men roared and cheered, despite the fact that they knew exactly what the _surprise_ was.

"So go ahead and bring them out." His voice was light, but contained an edge of warning. Basta figured he was reminding Darius about the Blonde being priority. He wondered if he was planning on replacing Resa with her.

'_If he has no more need for Resa, he might give her to me.'_ Basta thought hungrily.

Meanwhile Darius took his place in the center of the room with his book in hand. He adjusted his bent taped-up spectacles and visibly took a breath, and then another. And another.

Capricorn slammed his palm down on the carved wooden armrests, the echo causing some of the men to jump, and a woman to drop some kind of pottery. He grinned up at Mortolla to find her eyes sharply scanning the crowd, searching out the perpetrator.

Capricorn's message clear, Darius abruptly began to read:

"_T-two were dark, and had high aquiline noses, like the Count, and great dark, p-piercing eyes, that seemed to be almost red when contrasted with the pale yellow moon. The other was fair, as fair as can be, with great masses of g-golden hair and eyes like pale sapphires."_

Amazingly, he stuttered only once or twice, and as he finished, 3 pale figures stood in billowing gowns in the middle of the church. Basta felt the air growing cold as he stared at the women. They looked almost exactly like the picture, they even stood as they had, with the gorgeous blonde in front with her lavish curls and full curves, and the two slim girls flanking behind with their sleek dark hair.

The blonde's expression was no less haughty than it had been in the book, and she immediately turned her bright blue eyes around the room, glare passing over all until it came to rest on Capricorn at his throne.

"Well, look at that. She already knows who her new master is." Capricorn's jeer broke the men from the spell the women's beauty had cast, and they laughed and whistled.

The blonde frowned at her new self-proclaimed master. "You..? _My_ master? A mere mortal man?" she laughed, and it was harsh yet so beautiful. "Perhaps it is _you_ who should be calling _me_ master."

The church went quiet as every eye turned on Capricorn, stunned at the blatant challenge. His master's face remained blank, but from years of knowing him, Basta could tell he was furious.

"Perhaps she has less sense than I previously thought. Show her who the master of this village is." Immediately from the crowd around them several men sprang. Basta himself was slowly edging down the steps, hoping to get an arm around the blonde. As it was, every other man seemed to have the same idea in mind.

One man, Gratianno, moved forward and seized the attractive blonde's arm. The woman responded by taking hold of the man's wrist and snapping it effortlessly.

The men shouted, several women screamed, and Basta fumbled for his knife. But the blonde and one of the brunettes shot up into the air as if attached to wires. Hovering in the air above, the leader pointed at Capricorn with a sharp finger. "You and all your men will rue the day you slighted and abducted Count Dracula's prized wives. When all that you possess lies in ash and blood, perhaps you will realize your mistake."

She opened her mouth and hissed –actually _hissed-_ like a cat baring glistening white fangs, before hurtling through the stained glass window, raining glass down on the congregation.

Basta couldn't believe his eyes. Demons! They were demons, creatures of the night! Damn that Darius! He'd summoned devils into their village!

He felt someone bump into him and he moved to push them only to find that it was the shorter dark haired woman of the three. She was staring up at him with a dazed expression.

Basta couldn't stem the yell that tore from his throat. He plunged a hand into his shirt and pulled out his talisman, popping off a button on his collar in the process. Gripping it tightly he held it out like a weapon at the girl, who stumbled back with a pained expression, tripping on the hem of her flowing dress and falling. The church was rapidly emptying out, and he could hear Capricorn and Mortola shouting orders to rally the men.

Basta stood frozen, amulet in hand before the girl. He felt as if the slightest motion on his part would provoke the creature into lunging at him and breaking his bones. In all his days in Capricorn's service he'd handled many a beast; dogs, horses, boys -but never a supernatural one. Thankfully he soon had backup, as Stephano came running up behind the witch and jammed the butt of his rifle into the back of her head.

She crumpled instantly and a few more of the men conveniently arrived just in time to help restrain her.

"I want more than rope for that creature. If her sister so easily broke Gratianno's hand, then nothing short of chains will suffice!" Capricorn was pacing, his usual pale face livid with fury. "Cockerell! Don't think you can just come slinking in! I saw that pathetic retreat you gave! Since you're so eager to get moving, why don't I make _you_ head of the first search team for those she-beasts?"

Basta would've laughed if his heart still wasn't going miles a minute. His hand still had a death grip on the pouch tied around his neck. Capricorn turned his attention to him. "You managed to handle yourself pretty well, Basta. Who'd have thought that your childish superstitions would ever come in handy? I think you'd make the best choice for guarding the one that didn't get away."

Basta's tanned face drained until it was white enough to rival Capricorn's. Guard the monster? Was this a punishment or a reward!? Such a task couldn't be a reward!

"Sir, I don't think I can-"

But the look on Capricorn's face left no room for argument. "Lock her up in the crypt until we catch the other two."

Helplessly Basta nodded. The _crypt_. That was so much worse. He could hardly stand to escort prisoners down there, but now he'd be alone with… His mind conjured up snapping fangs and the sound of crunching bones. The look on his face must've been obvious, because a man beside him snickered after a glance. His fear turned to anger after a quick jab to the fool's ribs and he hauled up the unconscious woman and strode out of the church. However his vigor quickly ebbed as soon as he was walking all on his lonesome in the darkened streets. He glared up at the moon to find it completely full and cursed it silently. Why was it that all manner of unholy things attacked on nights like this?

As it was, this was the only night they'd had anything unholy attack, let alone on a full moon, but that was beside the point! What mattered was that the village was now being preyed upon by who knew what kind of curse. He was probably cursed for even touching the horrible woman currently slung over his shoulder.

The last thought came before he could stop it and he couldn't help but stiffen and drop the creature. She fell bonelessly onto the street, the deep red of her dress spreading out like a growing puddle of blood. The image alone was enough for him to draw out his lucky rabbit's paw for comfort. Despite his horror, when he managed to look past the dress, he found the woman absolutely stunning. Her face was gracefully curved, with smooth high cheek bones, like the white marble statues he always threatened to shatter in book collectors' houses. Her skin was just as white, and the moonlight reflecting off of it was nearly blinding. The contrast of her raven hair and pearl skin reminded him of a black and white photograph. Her eyes were closed and suddenly he felt somewhat curious as to what color they might be. Were they brown? Blue?

The Blonde's eyes were blue, he knew that. Like everyone else he had gotten an eyeful of her. The other two had mostly been forgotten in the background. Looking at the dark haired woman now, though, it was hard to imagine why. She was easily prettier than any of the other women in the village. There was just something about the presence of the blonde that overshadowed all else.

The fact that she looked so harmless and vulnerable was what enabled Basta to pick her up bridal-style and carry her the rest of the way. If he tried hard enough he could forget that her sister broke Gratianno's hand in the blink of an eye. And besides, he always had his talisman if anything went wrong.

He couldn't help but constantly glance down at his captive. She almost looked peacefully asleep. A cold wind passed over them and carried a strong sweet scent. Basta inhaled briefly and recognized it to be roses. He breathed again and found it was wafting of the dress of the woman in his arms.

Dawn was approaching as he rounded the church and opened the door that led to the crypt beneath it. He couldn't help opening the door slowly, being careful so that his presence didn't alert any white women that might be lurking around the place. Of course, he'd never seen any, but then the ones in this world _were_ invisible. Descending the cobwebbed steps into the windowless jail-like basement, he set the woman down and fished his prized keys out of his jacket pocket. Basta couldn't help but smile when never he used them. How could he not, when they were a sign of trust and recognition from the most powerful man to ever live? He had a higher standing than anyone else in the village, the keys were proof of that. He unlocked the cage door and turned to pick up the woman.

Green.

He realized her eyes were green when he found himself staring into them upon turning around.

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**Sooooo, there we go, third chapter. :) Finally the heroine was introduced – sort of. Thanks to Charivari for the shout out and review! The Basta fan group is pretty thin, so us fans gotta stick together to post the Basta-love ;P **

**Again, if there's any spelling, grammatical mistakes, or something that doesn't seem in character, lemme know! I can only read it over once or twice before the words run together and my brain melts.**


	4. Chapter 4: Sunny Disposition

**InkBlood**

**Chapter 4: A Sunny Disposition**

**Author's Note:**** WARNING! Long explanation following! **

**Hey I'm back, sorry for the long wait! Lemme address the two AWESOME reviews that got me moving to post this tonight!**

**First,**** Skyridge (I think I recognize your name from Charivari's fic?) **** I LOVE honest reviews! My friends are much too gentle with me and I'm never sure if I'm getting complete opinions :P I know that you definitely won't pull any punches, so honestly, lemme have it! I say this because I'm usually oblivious to the fact that I do things in an iffy way –hence I wouldn't do them so in the first place if I already knew. **

**It never went through my head that vampires in fanfiction were a deterrent until I remembered Twilight. I've never read twilight, and after seeing the commercials I refused to go watch the movies. Besides that I find it hard to get into something if everyone around me is sqee-ing about it, kinda puts me off for some reason. Maybe I'm a little hipster and I don't know it ;)**

**Bram Stoker's take on vampires was that they were essentially unearthly predators among a species at the top of the food chain, however, unlike some movies they weren't snarling mindless animals either (although I prefer that to sparkling pretty-boys) In fact they were quite cultured and clever. The first part of the book consists of the main character taking a trip to Dracula's Estate to be a consultant for the Count, who wants to relocate to London (a.k.a. a bigger pond with juicier fish). I laughed so hard that the events of the book triggered because Vlad wanted to learn the legal proceedings of such a situation. I'd actually never read the book either until I decided I wanted the main character to be a classical book figure that had better odds surviving in the Village and yet wasn't too strong. I don't know what it takes to kill a twilight vampire considering they only "sparkle" or something in sunlight, but quite a few things can kill/severely weaken a traditional vampire. InkBlood's going to touch heavily on that. **

**As for Darius' stuttering, It's been maybe about a decade since I read Inkheart and being a young kid when I read it, it was probably highly annoying to me and therefore blown out of proportion in my head X) I am reading it again now for this story but little by little (If I read it all in one go like I tend to do with books I'll finish it and might lose interest and pick up another book and get interested in that instead…) Does he just stutter once or twice per sentence?**

**Also don't worry the blonde isn't a Mary Sue, she's not the heroine and definitely is not a protagonist! I made sure to go ****out of the way to make the blonde woman the outlandish focus of attention and the other two ignored**** because that's exactly how it was in the book. The blonde like, two paragraphs of description and the other two got "Brunette with aquiline noses". That's it. Nothing to even tell them apart. And when Helsing breaks into the coffins at the end, who's he entranced and staring at? The blonde. She's the eldest, the Queen Bee, and Drac's favorite. She demands attention and the other two are afraid of her. This was how it was in the novel and was going to be mentioned in later InkBlood chapters but I didn't want anyone to misunderstand before then! To be honest, before starting I had intended to make her the heroine because she stood out and was the more fiery of the two, but their scenes in the novel just pissed me off so much I chose one of the brunettes instead. I liked this because it was ironic that the most beautiful "belle of the ball" lost being main character to the ignored indistinguishable bride that got no lines. Ahah**

**Oh, and TheKaylester, sorry for the cliff-hanger! My working hours got increased and even though it's only a part-time gig until college starts it exhausts me :S Although honestly I have no excuse because I have the next few chapters already typed. I just really hate to edit. REALLY hate it. It feels repetitive to me, my brain's like: "Hey, this part of the story's over, move on to the next one," and of course I'm like, "But I can't post it 'till I re-read and check for errors!" But nope, Brain's like "BORING. Do it later. Or I'll make you lose the momentum of the plot and choke on what to write next!" A.k.a. writer's block for me. **

**I'll try to be better about releasing the chapters guys, honest! And if I'm not don't be afraid to verbally slap me to get my butt in gear ;) Damn this was long, sorry, I could just make this a separate chapter, but then the next one would be "5. Chapter 4" - fics that have that bug the heck out of me, so here's the chapter!**

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Despite the maturity that her face and, well, _ample_ figure suggested, her eyes were large and wide, a rather innocent expression for a monster.

Slowly, she reached out with a slender hand framed by lace and a manacle. Basta found himself watching in horror and yet unable to stop her. She hovered her palm over his chest, jerked back slightly as if it were hot, and instead rested it on his cheek. He opened his mouth –whether it was to speak or to breath, he didn't know. Either way, it was moot, because he suddenly felt himself thrown back. With considerable force he flew through the air before landing hard on the crypt's floor. After sliding into the wall, he picked himself up slowly, more in shock than in pain. The girl had sent him head over heels across the room with a strength belonging to a man twice her size. Basta looked up in time to catch the sight of the hem of a red dress disappearing up the steps. Rather hesitantly, he picked himself up and pursued her. What could he possibly do if she was stronger than he was? He'd have to take her from behind; otherwise he'd doubtlessly lose a fight between them.

Drawing his knife as he ascended the steps, he imagined what kind of a punishment would await him for being unable to keep a cuffed girl from escaping. The men would _never_ let him live it down.

He reached the top of the stairs just as the girl threw open the door, the new rays of dawn flooding the darkness of the stairwell.

Basta squinted against the bright light, but the girl in front of him let out a blood curdling scream, the kind Basta knew to associate with the agony of the dying. Faster than his eye could track, she threw up her arms to shield herself from the light of the rising sun, and he could actually see her sleeves _smoking_. She stumbled back, and Basta flattened himself against the wall as she fell backwards past him, now in flames, down the staircase.

To her fortune, the tumble down the stone steps served to extinguish the flames licking up the sides of her arms, and when she reached the bottom she lay unmoving in a smoldering heap.

Basta stared at the tendrils of grey smoke wafting off the once flawless creature and jumped into the air shouting curses when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He flew around, knife at the ready, only to find Stephano standing in the doorway looking perplexed.

"Don't surprise me like that!" he hissed at the tawny haired man, who merely shrugged.

"I came to tell you that Capricorn wants the prisoner delivered to his room at the mansion."

Basta sheathed his knife and took another look at where the prisoner lay at the bottom of the stairwell. Stephano followed his look and groaned.

"Is that her? What _happened_!?"

Basta didn't care for the accusing tone in the man's voice. As if _he_ had done this!

"Don't look at me like that! She tried to escape, and when she opened the door the sunlight set her ablaze!"

"She caught fire… from the _sun_?" Stephano looked skeptical.

Basta shoved him harshly and approached her from the stairs. "You want me to prove it? Here, let's drag her into the sunlight and I'll show you."

"N-no, that's alright." Stephano's usual golden tan looked pale. "What are we going to tell Capricorn?"

"You mean what are _you_ going to tell Capricorn. I have guard duty, remember?" He said this a little sullenly.

"Can't we just, I don't know, put a bag over her and take her out?" The man was fidgeting nervously at the top of the steps. Bringing bad news to Capricorn was not a healthy undertaking, given their master's tendency to shoot the messenger. Or rather have the other men shoot him.

Basta shook his head. "I don't think so. It burned right through the sleeves of her dress." He picked up a limp arm gingerly. Ragged, blackened skin ran up to her shoulders like a long sleeved glove. Staring at it, he felt almost as if he were looking at his own arm. Unconsciously, he rubbed at one of his sleeves.

"So what are you saying? We just wait until the sun's gone down?"

"Otherwise known as _night_." Basta bit out. "If we don't our little prisoner'll be a pile of ashes."

He heard Stephano groan again and the sound of his boots stomped out of the room.

"Shut the door on your way out!" he bellowed after him with a nasty smile.

In response there was a loud slam.

Basta turned his attention back to the slightly toasted woman at his feet. Her hair covered her face, and she seemed to be unconscious. Still, remembering the last time she should've been out cold, Basta didn't take his eyes off of her as he dragged her into the cell and locked it.

He took his place leaning against a table with a few candles on it.

He didn't want to spend the entire day down in the Crypt with a monster, but he'd already used it as an excuse to avoid having to tell Capricorn the prisoner couldn't be moved until nightfall.

He groaned inwardly. He was stuck, and worse, he wouldn't be able to take a shower or change his clothes. He always loathed the jobs for Capricorn that kept him away from home long enough that he couldn't attend to his hygienic needs. The other men didn't seem to care how filthy they got, but Basta couldn't stand being anything other than spotless. He examined himself and with abhorrence realized that his generally immaculate white shirt had a smudge of ash on it. Probably a remnant of the witch's burnt sleeves. He looked over to shoot the unconscious girl an accusing glare and realized she was awake and staring at him.

He jarred the table and knocked over the chair as he instinctively recoiled. His hand was caught between going for his knife and his talisman, and he felt like a damn coward. The girl didn't even move. She just sat, with her blackened arms, and her red dress spreading out over the ground like an overturned rose, and stared. Never one to back down, not even to a monster, he held her gaze uneasily, and they watched each other intently for a few minutes.

But the longer he felt himself staring into those green eyes, the more sure he became that she must be casting some sort of spell over him, so he reached under his white shirt with a nervous hand and drew out his trusty talisman. The girl's eyes drifted down to it for a few moments, and then her mouth curled into a smile she began to laugh. Her laughter was entrancing and similar to the blonde's, but it lacked the harsh, mocking tones. It only seemed to carry the notes of genuine amusement.

Basta felt his thin mouth twist into a frown. She was laughing at him! He despised it when women laughed at him. He wasn't one of the strolling players with their pathetic comedy acts! He let go of the talisman and pulled out the knife instead. The laughter always died in the face of cold, daunting steel.

The girl did stop laughing, but she continued to smile at him fearlessly. He'd have to do something about that. He approached the bars of her cage and rapt the side of his knife against one. The harsh noise barely made her flinch.

"Smile while you can, little she-demon." He snarled at her. "Once Capricorn's through with you, you'll be lucky to move let alone grin. The same goes for your sisters."

She cocked her head to the side, and Basta was beginning to wonder if she was a mute.

"Oh yes," he continued, determined to get some kind of rise out of her. "Unlucky for you three, you're in Capricorn's Village now. Here, his word is law, and if he gives the order…" he put his own blade to his throat and motioned lightly across it.

The girl mimicked him by putting a finger to her own throat and drew it across.

"That's right." He affirmed in a tough, if slightly bewildered tone. She smiled again and Basta still had the slight suspicion she was making fun of him. His attempts at intimidating her were failing miserably. He hated that. As long as the bars of the cage were between them, he could do nothing, and they both knew it. A tiny inkling of opening the door and getting some respect out of her, maybe even a little begging, floated around in his mind, but the image of Gratianno having his wrist snapped quickly squashed it.

He heard the sharp sounds of something tearing, and he glanced over to find the girl tearing long strips off her red dress.

"What're you doing that for?" He asked curiously. He'd seen fear make people to crazy things, like jump from high windows, bash their heads against the wall, hang themselves with their belts...

The girl didn't answer him, but continued to rent the edges of her dress. Basta watched her until she finally finished and began to wrap the strips around the charred skin of her arms. Basta turned away, her actions flushing out unwanted memories of his own injuries. They were so many years ago, yet he remembered them all vividly.

The bitter smell of endless healing salves. Countless nights of crippling pain while he smothered his sobs in a pillow. A small, empty room with a narrow doorway that no one save for the old healer ever passed through. He'd spent so long staring at that wretched door he could recall how many knots in the wood it had... Out of the corner of his eye, Basta watched the girl's expression for any signs of the agonizing pain he had gone through. Her face was grim, and her color wan, but otherwise she didn't appear to be in uncontrollable pain. Either her burns must have been less severe as his, or truly she was a monster.

He thought about mentioning his own burns to break the silence, maybe ingratiate himself with the girl, but after seeing how well she dealt with the pain, he felt embarrassed that the story would cast him in a weak light. Even if she were mute and unable to spread the word or mock him, her silent scorn would be too much. He was reminded of Resa.

And so the hours passed by, which mostly consisted of the girl remaining absolutely still while Basta pacing around nervously- as if he were the one caged.

When he heard the door open, Basta nearly felt like running to embrace who ever had come to relieve him from the smothering silence. Of course, when he saw that it was Cockerell, he spat out an insult instead.

"Well Cockerell. Fancy seeing you here. Weren't you supposed to be devoured by that flying she-beast? Or did you just hide like the coward you are until sun-up?"

Cockrell sneered at him as he descended the steps, Flatnose following close behind. "There's no sign of those monsters Darius read out. They must've fled the village. Capricorn says we're to bring this one to the manor instead." To illustrate, Flatnose held up another set restraints.

"I guess you'll need me to unlock the door for you- since you don't have the keys." The last statement was a dig at Cockerell's pride, considering the taller man had been vying for Basta's position as second to Capricorn for years. "Well, she's all yours." His key clicked in the lock and the cell door swung open with an atrocious creak. At least now he'd be able to go home and shower.

Cockerell chose to ignore the insult and instead laughed. "Oh no, don't even think about it. Capricorn wants _you_ in his study as well. Says that with all your stupid knowledge about –I don't know, curses or something you might be useful for dealing with these things." He jabbed a crooked thumb at the "thing" now standing in the cage.

Basta's exhaustion evaporated in seconds. A golden opportunity to be _useful_ to Capricorn. Well now, it wasn't a wasted day at all. Stepping inside the cage fearlessly he grabbed a fistful of the girl's dress and led her out roughly.

"Damn, what happened to her arms?" Once again he was fixed with the same look Stephano had given him. "Shit, you really are terrible with women."

Basta flicked out his knife and remarked that Cockerell was going to be even worse at walking when he was through with him.

The woman didn't resist as they clapped an iron this time around her legs. They led her out into the cool night air, and aside from the brief moments when Cockerell would jab his gun into her back they kept at a slow, shuffling pace toward the shadow of a large manor.

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**Ahah, "Sunny Disposition", get it?**

**Sorry, this chapter was pretty boring in my opinion. I never like beginnings so much, characters are still being introduced, subplots haven't started yet, and well, they're kinda slow. So I'll edit and post the next one in about day!**


	5. Chapter 5: A Thorn in the Side

**InkBlood**

**Chapter 5: A Thorn in the Side **

**A/N: I stayed up late to do this for you guys. Because I LOVE you. That doesn't mean you shouldn't review the last chapter though ;)**

**My FAVORITE chapter so far. Now I can do her point of view. Pshhh, finally. **

**Also, I posted 2 concept arts on my old DeviantArt account ( Z-Hemla ) of the main character, the maids, and soon to be the other brides, maybe some of the Village's architecture. Check it out if you got the time, right now I've got up:**

**InkBlood Concept Art 01 – Fenice**

**InkBlood Concept Art 02 – Maids**

**Maybe later I'll do the dress.**

**P.S: To avoid any misunderstandings, this is how she thinks, I'm not rambling. **

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The moon last night had been full, a pity she hadn't been conscious to see it.

Fenice stared up at the champagne-colored orb that was floating in a sea of stars. It was still beautiful, just not as imposing as it was when it was swollen and looming overhead. A sharp jab between her shoulder blades sent her stumbling a few steps and a mad cackle from behind offended her ears.

Between the heavy dress, the leg shackles, and the horrible burning, Fenice wasn't so sure how many more times she could catch herself.

"So was the wench any trouble?" asked the man she had placed as Cockerell.

"I handled her just fine!" snarled her captor, Basta, as they called him. He had a very recognizable dry voice. He sounded defensive.

"Ya know, her dress is all torn up." snickered the largest man beside her, whose name hadn't been mentioned.

"I didn't do that! _She_ did!" Now he just sounded angry.

"Right, just like she roasted her own arms? Man, she must've rejected you pretty badly for you to skip right over using snakes." She didn't understand that, but Cockerell was laughing, so it must've had meaning.

There was a scuffle of shoes scraping against stone, and a loud thump accompanied by several struggling grunts. The giant beside her turned to look behind. "Hey you guys, quit fighting, Capricorn's already mad enough as it is."

Fenice turned to watch and found the shorter man had the taller red head by the shirt against the cracked stone of a building. His thin face bared white teeth like a dog, and the goateed man looked like he might expect him to take a large bite out of him.

Despite the giant's previous resignations about their brawl, now he was laughing at the sight. "Hey Cockerell, he got you again. Maybe you should just stop challenging him, huh?"

The redhead snarled, "Shut up, Flatnose, the bastard cheated!" he wrung himself out of Basta's grip and looked resentfully at them. When he noticed Fenice's stare his face turned as red as his hair. "What the hell are you looking at!? Get moving!" He picked up his gun off the street and jammed the long nose of it in between her ribs.

She jerked back -her breath hitching, but slowly turned around to move, making sure to give no sign that she had felt any pain.

The men marched her to the large manor she had seen in the distance. Over a low brick wall she spied a large plot filled with the leafy green foliage of a vegetable garden. Her eyes picked out a small white hare, illuminated by the moonlight, nibbling on a head of lettuce. However, it was gone in a flash as a slinky brown weasel-like creature darted out at it. Two points on its furry head glinted as it raised itself up on nimble hind legs to sniff the air. It turned their way and regarded them. Fenice smiled back and beside her the large man nudged her roughly with his elbow. "What're you smiling about?"

She regarded him for a moment, taking in his flattened face, small eyes, and his vacant –nigh moronic expression.

"A rabbit." She said quietly, so the men behind her would not hear, but she needn't worry, as they had begun bickering again.

"A rabbit!" He exclaimed, eyes lighting up. "I like rabbits."

Fenice didn't respond; it now seemed he was in his own world.

"They're so soft, and they have those little pink noses that always twitch at you!" he was grinning like a child, and motioning with thick, clumsy hands. "But if I pet 'em too much they bite me, and then I wring their necks."

"Hmm." She couldn't say she was surprised.

"Hey Flatnose, leave the woman alone, she doesn't want to have to listen to a moron like you babble!" From the haughty rasp, she could tell it was Basta.

"I was just tellin' her about the rabbits!" complained Flatnose.

"Again with those damn rabbits." She could hear the exhaustion in Cockerell's voice. "I've had enough of listening to you about those damn rodents."

But Flatnose dropped his voice –albeit to an obvious whisper- and continued to inform her about his joy for the furry creatures.

As they passed through the doors of the large house, two men wearing a similar black jacket to those around her regarded them, a firearm in hand. The inside of the manor was aged, with deep murky green wallpaper peeling at the corners, and scuffed floor boards that creaked with every step. Aside from the one they now passed through, the hallways were darkened and empty.

She wondered if it was just as the Count's castle, derelict with no servants, but that certainly couldn't be the case, could it?

They climbed a large wooden stair case, and when Fenice stumbled at the third step, Flatnose simply picked her up by the scruff of her collar with one hand and lifted her up to the top step.

"Eheheh, you're pretty small, you know that?" he informed her. He shook her to demonstrate and Fenice couldn't help but wonder if this was yet another way rabbits met their end.

Suddenly he yelped, letting go of her so quickly she would have tumbled over the banister if Cockerell and Basta hadn't steadied her.

"What're you trying to do, you idiot!?" Cockerell hissed, apparently making an effort to keep his voice down in his master's house.

Flatnose made no such effort. "She bit me!" He cried. "Just like the rabbits."

"No she didn't. How could she, when you had your hand on the back of her dress?" Basta said flatly.

"She _did!_ Look!" He held his hand out; a single crimson dot oozed out from his sausage-like index finger.

"So what?" Cockerell said dismissively. "You must've just caught your finger on something from her dress.

But Basta was looking at her suspiciously. "What if it really was something? Check if and see if she's got a weapon."

Cockerell was indignant. "What? Why me? If you care so much, _you_ check!"

"_I'm_ in charge!" He snarled at the other man. "That's why."

Grumbling, Cockerell spun her around, pulling back her laced neckline roughly and plunging a hand in. Whatever silence the manor had left was shattered when he screamed, high and pained, tearing out his hand as if it had been burned.

"What the hell-!?" Basta was backing up, nearly tripping down the stairs.

"It's her fucking collar, it's lined with –Idon't know- _pins_ or something!" He bawled, holding his hand in horror as multiple crimson dots began to bloom across it.

The chaos on the second floor of the manor was intensified when a door to their right opened and an old woman stuck her creased face into the hallway.

"What are you simpletons yelling about in Capricorn's house!?" She extricated herself from the doorway and stalked toward them, a formless black dress hanging off her like dripping ink. "Keep on like that and you'll frighten the maids, then they'll keep on like a startled henhouse all night!"

The men around her acted like admonished boys, with Flatnose hunching, as though to make himself smaller; Basta was straightening his jacket, all traces of his previous fear wiped clean; Cockerell was still nursing his bleeding hand.

"Look at what this monster's dress did to my hand!" he held out his red hand to the older woman and she wrinkled her hooked nose and batted the hand away. She regarded Fenice with sharp black eyes, like that of a bird of prey, and examined the back of her dress, still hanging open from when Cockerell ripped it in his panic.

Instead of just sticking her hand in as the other man had, she pulled carefully at the back of her dress, exposing a row of jagged thorns, sewn into the lining of her collar, along with several more rows running down her back.

"I like it." cackled the woman. "Looks like it teaches obedience. I should have some made for the maids." She let go of the fabric and clapped her on the back, making the thorns dig in. Fenice stiffened.

"Now come, your new master's waiting for you." Grapping a fistful of her waist-long black hair, she tugged it like a leash.

But Basta had come up from the side and taken a firm hold of her shoulder. "Oh no you don't, Mortolla. _I'll_ be the one to take her to Capricorn."

"Don't be ridiculous!" snapped Mortolla, who yanked harder on her hair. "You've done your part. Go home."

"Capricorn _requested _me." He dug his nails into her shoulder, above her burns, but still pulling the skin and Fenice had to bite her cheek to keep her expression from becoming pained. She felt that her body had become one violent tug-of-war, and suddenly shot forward, leaving Mortolla with a few strands of hair, and Basta with blood on his fingernails.

Moving as fast as she could in the leg shackles Fenice ran for the open door Mortolla had emerged from, assuming it was her destination. She was not disappointed, and when she entered, she found herself in a study, with bookshelf-lined walls and a large fireplace burning merrily between two windows. Before her was the same man she had seen when she had first found herself in the red, red, place. He was still seated, this time in a royal green armchair. The crimson of his suit stood out against the green upholstery, making his image appear to jump out from it.

He looked surprised to see her, alone at least, and she walked to the middle of the room, waiting idly for her entourage to burst in behind her. She didn't have long, because Basta and Mortolla raced in, momentarily becoming stuck in the doorway as they attempted to go through at the same time. In a flash, Basta had his arm around her neck, the cold edge of what was undoubtedly his knife pressing into her throat. She heard the sound of two more enter the room, one with an uneven gait, the other stomping.

Basta and Mortolla were both choking out threats and curses at the girl, which were cut off when Capricorn held up a pale hand.

"I take it our guest was eager to see me." He said lightly.

"The wench got away from Basta." Fenice could see little but the large beak of the woman from out of the corner of her eye. Basta's arm tensed over her throat hard enough to cut off her breathing.

"I'm surprised at you Basta." Only his face didn't look very surprised. "As my second, I expect more from you."

There was a quiet snicker from behind, likely Cockerell, and Basta's arm tightened even more. If Fenice had needed to breath, it would have been a serious problem.

"Still, no harm done, I suppose. Although it would be a prudent idea to teach our new guest the rewards of patience." He motioned with his hand and Fenice was thrown down on her knees.

She could feel the thorns digging into her back, but she stared up at the colorless man in colorful clothes.

"What is your name?"

"-Sir, I think she might be a mute –like Resa." Basta walked up beside her "I tried all day, but she-"

"Fenice." She answered.

Basta turned to regard her with a shocked and then furious expression.

"Well, it seems there's nothing wrong with her voice." Capricorn chuckled. "Perhaps she just didn't want to talk to _you_. What a surprise." Again, he didn't look surprised.

"Now, my dear, as I understand, it must've been quite a shock, appearing suddenly in my church." He waited and regarded her, expecting an answer.

"…Yes sir." Was all she offered.

"But your sisters didn't seem to be very distressed. In fact, they took right to the air and shattered one of my windows." For the first time, Fenice could feel fear creeping up her back, its' icy cold fingers chilling the droplets of blood running down from the thorns. This man, Capricorn, spoke just as the Count did. Pleasant conversation followed by cruel actions.

"But they seem to have forgotten you behind." He continued. "You must not be very well-liked for that to happen so easily." Fenice had to stop herself from smiling at his subtle insults that pricked like needles. Or rather thorns.

"What if something were to happen to you? After all, wouldn't it be fair to extract payment for my poor damaged property from the only one of you remaining?" The man made her impending torture or death sound almost reasonable. But she could see the true reason behind the guise of "fairness" underlying in the threat of his words. He was still furious at Kelene and Zhameni's actions. He was looking to get to them by hurting her.

"You'd be doing them a favor." Fenice said simply. "They hate me. They would have gotten rid of me a long time ago if it weren't for our master."

This didn't appear to be the answer Capricorn wanted, for the pleasant expression on his face quickly fell into a frown. His trump card against her sisters was found to be useless. "Is that so? It disheartens me to hear of such discord in the family." He never appeared to look how he claimed to feel.

"Now, enough about your sisters. They'll be in my company soon enough." He seemed sure of it.

"I heard there was a little, 'incident' while you were under Basta's care." He angled lazily to her bandaged arms.

Basta sprang on the opportunity to answer. "She tried to escape when I brought her to the Crypt. When she opened the door the sunlight and it burned her."

Capricorn looked annoyed that Basta had answered instead, but this soon turned to intrigue at his words. "Burned in the sunlight? Now that's an interesting condition you have there. I can sympathize, I'm not fond of the sun. It's never been kind to those of us with fairer complexions." He leaned forward in his large armchair and yawned. "So, aside from your little sun problem and flying, is there anything of note about you?"

Fenice thought for a moment. To tell the truth, there was a great deal else, however, they were completely moot due to a certain situation she was hesitant to mention in front of present company.

"I don't believe so." She murmured.

Capricorn smiled. "Then I suppose you believe wrong."

Fenice stiffened, but kept her face slack.

"For instance, I find it of note that you'll look that age forever. I also find it of note that you can't be killed by conventional means. Did you think I was not interested in those aspects of you, my dear?"

Fenice stared up at him with glazed eyes, while the men around her laughed.

How could he have possibly known that? Her affliction and its effects were a perfectly kept secret. The Count didn't even keep servants in the castle just so he could prevent rumors from escaping, so how…? She dug her fingernails into her palm to clear her mind of panic. Even a tiny slip up around a man like that would alert him to her attempts at deceit.

"Well sir," she began, "Eternal youth, I cannot attest to, since I am still yet on my 19th year. And as for immortality, well, I've always considered that more or less wishful thinking than a guarantee, right along with a red sky at dawn meaning fair weather for sailors or Throwing salt over your shoulder to ward off bad luck."

Capricorn was frowning again, and Fenice couldn't help but think it suited his personality more than the false pleasantness. He leaned forward, pale eyes scrutinizing her, staring at her as if trying to bore into her very soul. If she wasn't accustomed to even more piercing looks from the count, his gaze might have made her tremble.

Finally he leaned back. "Why didn't you fly off with your sisters?"

"One of your men knocked me out."

"No, before that. The other two were up in the air; you were on the floor watching. _I noticed._"

He was a clever man. Clever men always made things so much harder.

When she took too long to answer, Capricorn held up a book. For the first time that night her calm mask slipped.

Illustrated on the page in near perfect detail were Kelene, Zhameni, and herself.

"This book contains everything about your sisters, you, and your Count. I'm giving you the opportunity to redeem yourself by telling me what I want to know. I'm not lenient with these opportunities, Fenice. You'd do well to use it."

What he knew and what he did not, Fenice couldn't tell. He had an excellent playing face, slack and expressionless –like a dead man's. She still doubted he knew very much about her. After all, if the Count was one thing, it was careful. Still, the portraits of she and her sisters, in such a thick book… It had to be a ruse. Had someone truly written a documentation on her, as they might for a rare bird or an insect? Where could he have gotten it? And more importantly, what information could be inside?

It seemed she would be forced to part with a secret or two, ones important enough to satiate the red man's hunger. She could use the dress. It may put her at a disadvantage, but the old woman already knew, and she was cruel and shrewd enough that she'd likely tell him any way. If that alone wasn't enough perhaps she could inform him of her unique hunger. Capricorn struck her as an individual who would indulge things if they piqued his interest. The Count was much the same way. Maybe he'd let her feed –she'd been starving for nearly a week.

"My dress," she began, "It prevented me from flying the night in the church. And I suppose from overpowering your men."

Basta scoffed and from behind she heard Flatnose's guffaw. But Capricorn nodded. It had been what he was looking for. It pointed toward something he could see with his own eyes that answered all his questions easily.

"The other women wore dresses just like yours. They seemed unhindered."

Fenice shrugged, dreading where the subject was going. "Mine is special."

"Shall we take it off then, and see what's so special?"

There was a wolf-whistle from Cockerell.

"Wait!" said Mortolla suddenly. "If that's what keeps the little monster under control, then she should keep it on. Besides, _I _know what's special about it!"

"Do tell." Capricorn almost looked disappointed.

"Her gaudy dress is set with thorns, I've seen them! They must be lined with a poison that makes her weak!"

"I was the one that discovered the thorns!" That from Cockerell.

"No you weren't –I was!" Flatnose's whisper was as loud as ever.

"Poisoned thorns…?" Again Capricorn seemed enthralled.

"Wild rose is sewn into my dress." Fenice relented.

"And the poison?"

"My sisters and I are… allergic to wild rose. There's no need for poison."

Mortolla sniffed, as though she'd been insulted, but she still looked triumphant.

Capricorn stroked his colorless face thoughtfully. "What an ingenious way to command obedience. I feel as though I'm beginning to like this Count Dracula." He furrowed his brow suddenly. "Why just you?"

"I- I'm new." She said quickly.

"Ah, being broken in, I see. Well," he steepled his fingers, "You'll find that around here we operate much the same way. If you behave, you'll be able to appreciate a quaint little existence here. However, if you make yourself an annoyance," he smiled cheerfully. "I'll have to insist you sit out to watch the sunrise with me."

She felt her fingernails puncture her palms.

"Speaking of the sun, I suppose it'd be difficult for you to work during the day. As it were, aside from special events my maids generally go to bed at 9. That can be rather irksome if I happen to have need of something in the night. Poor Mortolla usually has to trouble herself to attend to it. I'm sure she'd appreciate some extra help."

Mortolla didn't look appreciative at all, in fact, she looked scandalized at the thought of Fenice stealing her duties, but she kept silent.

"Still, it'd be insulting to have you serve me in such tattered attire. This is a respectable household after all. Oh, but don't worry, my dear, I'll have a new dress made for you soon. Until then, I'm afraid you'll just have to stay down in the Crypts. But not to worry, now that you have you have those burns, you should have something to talk about with Basta."

"Uh, sir," Basta spoke up for the first time. He spoke obediently, without his usual bite added to it. "Not that I'd ever disagree with your judgment, but I've been guarding her since about this time last night. Perhaps Cockerell would be better suited…?"

She heard a low growl behind from said man.

"I suppose you're right, Basta. I'd thought you'd be the best for the task because that talisman of yours seemed to repel our dear Fenice in the chapel. Then again it may have just been your personality."

The slight was so out of the blue that Fenice couldn't repress the clipped laugh that escaped her lips. Before she knew it, all eyes were on her, and she stared pointedly at the floor. The rug beneath her knees truly was a nice rich gold.

She didn't have to look at Basta to know his reaction to being laughed at; she could feel the heat coming off of him.

Capricorn was laughing as well. "Calm down Basta, haven't you heard it's healthy to laugh? At my jokes in any case."

"But you're right. I suppose you could use a break. So go ahead and hand over your talisman to Cockerell and I'll let you have the day off."

The blood drained from Basta's face so quickly that Fenice swore she could hear it slide down his veins in a hurry.

"My-my talisman?" He put a hand over the slight bulge under his white shirt.

"Yes, your talisman. That dress is supposed to be her restraint, and it's looking a little tattered, wouldn't you say? And we wouldn't want Cockerell to have any trouble with our new guest, would we?"

Cockerell hobbled over to stand beside Basta, his crooked fingers spread out for the charm and a nasty smile on his goat face. Basta opened his mouth and closed it a few times, before he was able to find his voice. "I-I'll watch the girl for another night." He croaked.

"Are you sure?" Inquired Capricorn with a satisfied smile. "Surely you _must_ be tired."

Basta shook his head, still clutching at his talisman. "Yes sir, another night should be no problem."

"Good. While you're at it, perhaps you should make one of those for whoever has to guard her next." He paused thoughtfully for a moment. "And make one for me while you're at it."

Basta nodded fervently. "Yes sir, I'd be honored to!"

Capricorn waved his henchman's enthusiasm away casually. "Before you go," He turned to the old woman, "get something light from the kitchen for the girl, I'm sure she's quite hungry."

Fenice's heart bottomed out as she was pulled up and led out the door. He was right, she was quite hungry, but it wasn't a hunger that could be sated with bread and meat.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

**Told you, she's a day-dreamy faraway, somewhat detached sort.**

**Well now that went rather well! For me, not Fenice, exactly. Our poor heroine's in the thick of it, with no friends and nowhere to go! That's going to change in the next few chapters, but until then, looks like she's Basta's ward. That poor guy, going 24+ without sleep is hell.**

**For anyone that wants to know about Fenice's name, the Brides weren't named in the book. (Ain't that just great?) I thought about using the names Marishka, Aleera, and Verona from the Van Hellsing movie, but really, they didn't seem right. After some research, I found that Chelsea Quinn Yarbro had written a trilogy called Sisters of the Night, with each book featuring the story of one of brides. They were: Kelene: The Angry Angel (1998), Fenice: The Soul of an Angel (1999) and Zhameni: The Angel of Death (unpublished). Never read the books, but I really loved the sound of Fenice. (I pronounce it "feh-niss")**

**Cheers!**

**P.S. I just found out, ****Skyridge = McShmickley, so go read her FanFic "A Heart Worth Breaking". It's got an excellent point of view from a very sad Basta. **


	6. Chapter 6: Midnight Snack

**InkBlood**

**Chapter 6: Midnight Snack **

**Careful guys, 'nother long authors note! Seriously Sky, I wrote you a book just now. O.O**

**Well, let's start with Fen's age. To be honest, she's actually older than that though not much, and yes, you stay frozen at the age you turned at. As for her body being 19, I did originally plan to make her in the 23-28 range (which are roughly the ages of Kelene and Zhameni) but when I made her back-story it made sense to have her as much younger, so yeah, you'll find out why later on. Although, from what I remember it wasn't uncommon for wealthy men of high status to wed younger women. Those men were usually actually much older. Speaking of which, ju know that in the novel Dracula was actually old with white hair and a mustache? O.o Although I do believe he could manipulate it. His age, not the mustache.**

**Life may not end when you're an adult, but Fenice's definitely did when she was 19. One of the reason's she's so detached is that she feels cheated out of being able to completely grow up, and she also acts mature because of this. Lol, I didn't make her young because I like teenagers, that would especially be weird since Basta's probably in his late 20's to early 30's. (Although I have a suspicion that book characters don't age outside their world, given Mo's comment that they (Basta, Df, and Cappy) haven't changed a bit since he read them out of the book 10 years ago.**

**Also, while we're on the subject of insanely long hair, until I turned 13, my own was down to my mid-thighs. Albeit I did keep it in a braid, it was THICK! A lot of times today when I see women try to do the waist-long hair thing it starts off nice but then as it gets lower it thins out and gets all split-endy. You need to have a really specific and hardy hair type to pull off growing it that long or else it won't be able to take the wear and tear. That's why it's more common in the middle-east, not only (especially prior to modern times) was it a cultural sign of beauty, but because for whatever biological/ethnic reason the texture of hair is much thicker and coarser.**

**Transylvania is in Romania, which shares borders with Hungary and Serbia. We're talking Turks. When I lived in Uzbekistan (while the main language was Russian, it had a lot of cultural influence from Iran and Turkey) a lot of the local women (many did have over waist-long hair, and this was modern times!) fawned over me quite a bit because they weren't used to seeing little white girls have hair like that. **

**Then again, I did get the crazy eastern-European hair gene from hell (as my mother calls it) that makes the women in my family not only grow hair incredibly fast, but incredibly thick.**

**On the head yeah, it's great (except for roots), but you try having to wax every 2 days :S As for time consuming, I never did anything extra to it. Just took longer to wash it. Then again, it's hard to hurt my hair, the texture's incredibly hardy. Like wire. AND IT'S SHARP TOO! Seriously, that's why I always have it pulled back, it's so stiff and firm that the ends are pointy(even if they're cut completely blunt)! I never have any trouble knowing when it's time to cut my bangs because the repeated stabbing of my eyelids lets me know… If you're one of those lucky chicas that have soft thin fine-strands of hair, and not much of it, long hair is impossibru! **

**In the modern lifestyle of today it makes little sense to have long hair, but back then quite a few women did, especially the ethnicity from which Fenice is a part of. Can u guess which? I'll give you a hint; they were a subgroup of nomadic people that frequented Eastern and Central Europe. Serbia, Hungary, and Romania in particular ;)**

**Also, Fenice does have black hair, maybe I made a typo in an earlier description? I'll have to check. Oh, wait, I bet it's because of the book line referring to them as brunettes. Well most people are about 50/50 on it this way, but I'll occasionally use 'brunette' to describe someone with black hair, because I've always felt it can range anywhere from light brown to incredibly dark. I guess I just include blacks in there. I mean, we've got blondes, red-heads, brunettes, and…. what, black-heads? I've never heard a proper noun to describe someone with black hair, so usually I just lump brunettes and black hair together because brunettes have such a wide color range. Sorry if that caused any misunderstanding!**

**Lol, and the outfit isn't something she's ever going to wear in the story, I just like modeling my characters in neat clothes (Aside from the ivory choker, she**_** is**_** wearing that in the story). The lace and corset are similar to the dress I originally designed, but on the whole I wanted to see her in something loose and breezy. I'm trying to remember what kind of dresses the Brides in Van Helsing wore, but then they were probably sexed-up a bit. In most other movies they look sort of like nightwear.**

**And so far I have kept Capricorn pretty chill, but that's because I've always found calm villains more frightening than the angry ones, and that's what Capricorn essentially was in the book, a childish man who was playing a cruel game in which he owned every piece on the board. There's something very sociopathic about him.**

**Also, I love your critiquing, they make me stop and give serious thought to the characters and happenings of my story, which is totally necessary since I do want to do Inkheart justice. :) **

**P.S. Guest- Ironically, I read your review as I was updating! Thanks for the motivation 3**

**Now on to a little Fenice and Basta!**

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

In the kitchen Fenice and Basta stood at a wide counter separate from the walls. Mortolla's irritated muttering drifted out from the large walk-in pantry. Fenice said nothing during her wait, and she could feel Basta glowering at her from his side of the counter, likely still angry at her earlier laugh at his expense. The tension was cut by Mortolla's sharp nose when it emerged from the room, a tray of food carried underneath it.

When Basta reached out for it she fiercely slapped his hand away and slammed the tray down in front of Fenice.

"What about me!?" snarled Basta. "I haven't eaten all day!"

"Capricorn only said to feed the girl. You have your own house, eat there!" she sneered.

"I can't, I have to watch _her_!" he stabbed a finger in Fenice's direction like it was a knife. He probably wished it was.

"Well that's just too bad, isn't it?" she left the room cackling, with Basta staring murderously after her.

Meanwhile Fenice was gazing somberly at the food. Several slices of baked bread along with a few olives and meat. It was just as she feared -she wouldn't be able to choke it down. If by some feat she did, she'd be losing her stomach out violently and be retching for hours.

She glanced over at Basta, who was flicking his knife back and forth sourly. She pushed the tray over to him.

When he furrowed his brow suspiciously, she offered "You take it. I'm not very hungry."

"You're not hungry? He said disbelievingly.

"It's been too stressful. A woman can't eat when she's sick to her stomach with worry. Besides, I feel bad for laughing at you upstairs. Consider this my apology."

For a moment, she worried he wouldn't take it. He regarded her with considerable distrust, but the cold food was obviously too much of a temptation. Making a noise of approval, he pushed his sleeves up slightly and went to wash his hands at the sink. Fenice stared in disbelief. Not only was the sudden effort at cleanliness odd, but he obviously trusted her enough not to run while he had his back turned. Although the door that led outside was locked, what made him so sure she wouldn't choke him from behind? _Or bite him._

The last thought caused her famished stomach to lurch uncomfortably, and she wrung her shaking hands in an effort to distract herself from the aching thoughts. She stared at the plate of food on the counter. Food, food, all around, and not a bite to eat. She felt like a sailor, lost at sea. Surrounded by glorious bountiful water, none of it drinkable.

An old habit made her reach out and snatch an olive and tuck it into the torn bosom of her dress. What use she could possibly have for it, she didn't know.

Basta had come back from the sink, looking heartily at the meal. With nothing better to do, she laid her head on the counter and watched him. He had a sharp face, with dark brown eyes he had a habit of narrowing when he spoke. His dark moderately short hair was swept back, aside from a strand or two that looked as if they wouldn't stay put. Over a white shirt was a black suit with a rose in the button hole. Thankfully it wasn't wild rose.

As he began to eat, she spied darkened skin peeking out from under the partially rolled sleeves. She wondered if her keen nose might be able to detect it and sniffed the air.

_Brine from the olives, the sweetness of the rose, acrid earth from consecrated ground in the talisman, a cologne-smelling aftershave, peppermint -though she had no idea where that was always coming from, and…_

Her sharp nose couldn't smell anything coming from the man's arms. Whatever the marks were, they were either tattoos or scars.

_Or burns. _She thought, remembering Capricorn's earlier comment.

Basta noticed her stare on his arms and quickly yanked his sleeves down lower. He looked at her reproachfully and she gazed innocently back. In her angular ears she could hear his blood quicken for a moment. He glanced away and redirected his attention to the meal.

Likewise Fenice turned to examine the kitchen. With a large hearth that smelled of years of baking bread, and countless herbs drying on the walls, Fenice could guess that the large kitchen was used to prepare food for most of the village. Did the maids Capricorn spoke of work here? Was she to work here as well?

Behind her she heard Basta clear his throat. She looked to find him staring intently at _her_ this time.

"Why did you let me think you were mute?"

That was right, she hadn't answered him in the jail cell, and he'd told Capricorn so, only to have her speak right after. She'd made a fool of him.

"You never gave me an opportunity to speak to you."

"What are you talking about? I spoke to you in the crypt." He said angrily.

"You threatened me with your knife. It wasn't exactly a conversation." She said tapping her cheek absently. Basta turned back to his food in disgust.

"Are you really that man's right hand?" she asked, after a few moments.

"Of course I am!" Basta didn't hesitate.

"Hmm." Was her only answer.

"What?" he asked of her doubtful expression. "You don't believe me?" His eyes sparked dangerously in the firelight, and his voice was gradually rising in irritation.

"He did make fun of you. Even encouraged me to laugh at your expense. Does he really care for you?" The words must've struck a nerve, because nearly too quick for her own senses to track, he pulled out his knife and plunged it deep into the counter, perfectly between two of her splayed fingers.

"I'm Capricorn's best man!" he shouted into her face. "There isn't a single person in this world –or mine, that has more loyalty or more privilege!" Plunging a hand into his pocket he withdrew a heavy looking set of keys, and Fenice did her best to try and hide her interest.

"You see these!?" he asked, shaking them in front of her nose. "These are the keys to the _entire_ village! No one else has something like this! Do you know why? Because _I'm_ the leader of the men, second only to Capricorn himself!" His face was red with fury, and behind his rage, Fenice could see that he really intended to have her aware of his 'esteemed position'.

What did he hope to gain? Respect? Yes, she suspected that he craved respect, which was probably why Capricorn gave him very little. The fact that he even wanted it from a lowly prisoner with no position at all within the strange village revealed a serious insecurity- and a potential weakness she could use. She could give him respect, or at least the illusion of it. If it satiated his ego, then why not? It might turn out in her favor. Or at least get him to stop shouting.

"My," she murmured in a low voice, "Look at all those keys. Capricorn really _must_ trust you to give you such a privilege."

Basta was breathing hard as he leaned back, his face was decidedly less livid. She thought he'd say something, but he just waited for her to continue. With a mental shrug she resumed stroking his ego. "I suppose I should count myself lucky that I've got the man in charge of the village guarding me." She smoothly omitted Capricorn from the statement, but Basta seemed to be enjoying himself too much to correct her. "Now I'm absolutely sure nothing awful could happen to me under your watch." She also quietly changed the angle of the situation to make it look as if she actually were a guest under his protection, rather than a prisoner being held against their will.

Surprisingly, her flattery seemed to work, as Basta's face had lost its violent color and expression. He was smiling now. It was a proud, haughty smile, but it was probably as close as an angry individual like Basta could get.

"I'm glad to see you finally get it." He remarked, pulling the knife out of the counter and sliding it back under his jacket. "None of the other women in this village seem to."

_Imagine that._

"Well, guess we'll head for the Crypt." he said, after stuffing down the last of the meal and putting the tray in the sink. His hand reached over for the sponge momentarily, as though he planned to wash it, but he stopped himself and turned to find Fenice staring at him. Almost embarrassed he abandoned the dishes and grabbed her by the arm, hauling her out of the kitchen.

~O~O~O~

"What country is this?" she asked suddenly as they walked the streets.

"What do you mean by that?" his teeth flashed in the moonlight.

"I'm not in Transylvania anymore. The mountains around us are all wrong. They're not as steep, or snow capped. There aren't any thick forests with towering trees, and the air is warm and humid." She took a deep inhale of breath, and Basta watched her in puzzlement. "And the coast isn't far."

Basta stopped walking in disbelief. "You can't tell we're along the coast from here." he accused. Fenice held still and put her hands out in front of her, breathing deeply again. There's a sea," she said slowly, "that way." She turned and pointed to the south.

"How the hell can you tell!?" He didn't look amazed anymore, he looked a little fearful. He seemed to be regarding her with suspicion again.

'What a paranoid man.' Fenice marveled.

"When the wind picks up, I can smell salt on it, and the cooler breezes come from that way" she pointed south again. "So, there must be a coast over there. Am I wrong?"

Basta looked away and crossed his arms. "There's no way you should be able to tell that. It isn't natural."

It seemed to Fenice that Basta cared a great deal about what was natural and what wasn't.

"So? Where are we? The trees and the architecture… is it Spain? Greece?"

Basta shook his head and moved on, as if to avoid her questions. She felt ridiculous for even asking, but it stood to reckon that she was no longer in her home in the Carpathian Mountains. She needed to know where and how far away it was from the Count. More than likely he'd be coming for his property soon.

"You can tell me." she sidled up to him and looped an arm around his, pressing her chest to it suggestively. Again, she could hear his heart quicken and his blood move faster. "Please?"

He yanked his arm away, keeping his narrow eyes on the street ahead. It seemed he wasn't fond of having his arms touched. "It won't do you any good to know, the world you're from is long gone." He said darkly.

"What do you mean by that? Transylvania is gone? How could that be?" She knew her captor wasn't the patient type, but she couldn't help questioning him on his vague statement.

How could Transylvania be gone? Did that mean the Count was gone as well? She needed answers.

But Basta was intent on letting nothing else slip. Fenice wondered if this was revenge for all she'd done to him earlier. She gave up and fell silent. He grinned spitefully at her defeat as they rounded the church.

Even as she stepped cooperatively through the door, Basta shoved her in roughly.

'_For a mindless thug,' _she thought as she lost her footing and tumbled to the stone floor, _'he certainly can hold a grudge.'_

She sat up and brushed off her hands, turning to see Basta taking a seat at the table. Just as before, the minutes ticked by uneventfully. Still, she knew the opportunity she was waiting for could not be far off and waited, still as a statue. Sure enough, into the fourth hour into the night, her captor's head nodded down. For a moment, his rigid form seemed to slacken, and he rested his head on his arms. Still more minutes passed and she heard his breathing slow to a crawl. Listening intently, she crept back into the shadows. She waited a few minutes to be fully sure he was asleep, then reached for the back of her dress. With some difficulty, she managed to undo the lace running from her lower back to the torn collar at her neck.

Gingerly, she peeled the fabric off, though despite her care efforts the thorns that ran from her neck to her hip took generous amounts of flesh with it. However as soon as the material left her skin they immediately began to heal. Taking a moment to savor her energy returning and lethargy fading, Fenice stretched her bandaged arms out and rose to stand on her toes. She rubbed at the burns, but could already feel them slowly healing. The pain would fade soon, but the scars would take quite a while to disappear. Burns from iron and flame always took quite a toll.

Wearing nothing aside from a pale white slip and the red strips of her dress around her arms, the jail cell felt cold. Then again, she was always cold, and the thought that she'd feel warmer after a proper meal cheered her up considerably. She turned to the man 'guarding' her and approached the bars. He was breathing deeply and slowly. She could see his left hand clenched and twitching. She wondered if he was using his knife in his dream.

She moved her attention to the bars of her cage. They were thick, with room to get little more than a hand through. Not to mention made of iron. She could almost feel her skin sizzling at a single touch of the metal that was caustic to those of her condition. Iron or not, she had to leave, so she focused hard at the space in-between the bars. She'd done this only a few times before, and never with anything that could seriously burn her if she made a mistake. Gathering up her wits, she pointed her arms at a spot between the bars, and dove into it. What happened to her body when doing this trick was a mystery even to her. She'd seen the Count do it once or twice, and the only thing she could describe was that her form became some manner of mist, sliding through the space it desired to pass through. Mostly the entire action was a blur. So it was that she felt herself take form on the other side, on her hands and knees, only feet away for her dozing jailer.

She crept up to him, taking in the sight of his white collar. As long as that talisman was around his neck she couldn't put her face anywhere near it. Besides, one dead jailor meant one displeased Capricorn, and she didn't know the layout of the village and its surroundings well enough to flee just yet. No, she'd go out and hunt, then come right back. All she needed was enough to get her strength back up.

She slipped out through the doors, relishing the cool night breeze before disappearing into the shadows.

~O~O~O~

Dustfinger waded through the thick underbrush, doing his best to avoid thorns and deadly snakes. He clicked his tongue softly, eyes scanning the shadowed grass.

Where _was_ that little mongrel?

He needed to get going. Some of the men were driving out to the village nearby and Dustfinger had managed to secure a seat. But of course he couldn't leave without Gwin, who had yet to come back from hunting.

He emerged from the brush into a small clearing, empty, aside from a few trees and the crumbling walls of a burnt out house. He spotted Gwin by the base of a gnarled cypress tree, and approached the horned martin. As he picked it up by the scruff of its fur, he noticed a large green olive clutched between his needle-like teeth.

"Now where did you get a hold of that?" he murmured to the martin. Gwin merely chewed.

Dustfinger felt a tickling by his ear and glanced to his left. A brown feather speckled with white rested on his shoulder. He moved to brush it off when another sailed down, then another.

The fire-eater looked up and started.

Right above him, on a branch about 12 feet off the ground sat a girl, head bent over a pile of feathers in her hands. 'White Woman' was the only way he could describe her, with her pale skin and milk-white dress. The light from above made her glow like she were a separate moon.

The girl took no notice of him, though she surely must have heard him. The feathers continued to rain down, one sticking to Gwin's wet nose. He brushed it off before placing the furry creature into the old backpack slung around his broad shoulders.

Cautiously, he gripped a branch near his head and pulled himself up, beginning a slow climb up to her. He reached her branch, finally able to get a good look at her. Although most of her was pale as a marble statue he now saw that her hair was black as midnight and her sleeves red as blood. She sat perched precariously at the end, with her legs swinging casually over the edge.

'_She must weigh very little for the tip of the branch not to snap off.'_ He mused to himself.

The girl's movements over the pile of feathers in her hands slowed when he settled at the base of the branch, leaning against the trunk with his bag in his lap. She lifted her head slowly to look at him, and he felt his heart skip a beat when he saw her mouth was coated in blood and feathers. She seemed to notice this and smiled, revealing sharp white fangs that rivaled Gwin's.

Digging his fingers into the worn leather fabric of his coat, he forced himself to smile. "You've got a little something right here." He tapped the corner of his mouth, then after hesitating he angled at his whole jaw.

"You too." She mimicked his scars on her face. She plucked a downy feather, slicked with blood, and dropped it over the edge of the branch. She proceeded to wipe her face clean and lick her fingers. Dustfinger rubbed at his cheeks as well, wishing he could wipe away the scars. Of course, he couldn't, and so settled for watching her uneasily from across the tree branch. She didn't appear to care much that he was there. Perhaps because he wasn't a bird.

"Out for a late dinner?" he chanced.

"More like a midnight snack." She tossed the bird toward him and surprise, he flinched, only for Gwin to lunge up and catch the carcass in his teeth. With the flash of a tail he disappeared back into the bag.

"Your marten has a lovely coat." She smiled at the backpack.

"He's all skin and bones." He said, clutching the bag defensively.

The girl laughed, and it was incredibly pleasant coming from a mouth with bloody fangs. "Why, I wouldn't dream of eating the little creature. Not after he brought me such a thoughtful gift." She flicked off another feather.

"That's interesting, Gwin usually never shares his food. He's quite greedy."

"I can be very persuasive." She smiled again before it suddenly slipped off. She looked up, as if something else had caught her interest.

"So," he asked as she got to her feet, toes balanced precariously on the narrow tip of the branch. "How long have you been staying at the village?"

She walked even further away, the thinner end of the branch bending under her steps. Like a tightrope walker in a traveling troupe, she put out her arms and pivoted, turning back to face him. "About a day now."

Dustfinger raised a sandy eyebrow. "And how do you like it?"

"Hard to say. I've only seen a house, a church, and a crypt."

"A crypt? What did you do to end up in there?"

"It's what I didn't do, which was get away with my sisters."

Dustfinger scratched at the blonde stubble on his face. He was beginning to understand. He'd heard from some of the men that Darius' last reading had gone awry. Some of the women Capricorn wanted had gotten away. After breaking a man's wrist and flying through a window. He'd been skeptical when he'd heard that, but looking at the strange girl before him, it just may have been possible.

"So if you didn't escape, how is it you're out enjoying the night air? Capricorn doesn't usually let his maids out after dark. Keeps them shut in like hens."

She was silent for a moment, then turned suddenly. "What country are we in?"

Grinning at the fact that she blatantly ignored his question, he answered hers. "Italy."

"Ah." She nodded, not surprised. "Where in Italy?"

Dustfinger shrugged.

She looked at him with her hands on her hips. "I've just arrived, what's your excuse?" As if she decided he was of no more interest, she pivoted around again and walked down the branch, pitching herself over the tip when she reached it.

Dustfinger yelled as she fell out of sight, scrambling down the trunk after her. He looked around the base of the tree for the girl, but found nothing. The wind picked up as he searched, rustling the tall grass and the trees. An owl hooted not far from the tree, and crickets began to chirp all around. It wasn't until that moment when Dustfinger realized before then, the entire forest had been dead silent.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

**Sorry for the long wait guys, getting ready for the long trek northward for college :)**

**Didn't get a chance to really do some in-depth editing, so if anything stands out, please lemme know!**

**I think I'll draw a picture of Fenice in her slip. In a tree. With blood all over her face. Having a tea party with Gwin. Lol.**


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